Thursday, August 11, 2005


Forget Giselle. Forget tropical islands. Forget Giselle alone on a tropical island. These days, I fantasize of nothing but the perfect office chair, spoiling me with its seductive contours and curves, the sort of curves Giselle could never compete with. In my dream, I sit on that chair and I write. I write and write like I am in heaven and the words appearing on my screen are the results of heaven's inspiration. This is sublime, I say unto myself. A chair such as this was surely created by the God of Comfort Seating. I raise my arms to the sky and shout a praise of unprecedented loudness, the best proclamation that my tiny throat can muster, Thank you, O'God of Comfort Seating! Thank you for giving my bottom a most euphoric sitting experience. How can I ever repay thee?

And then I wake up and my back aches like backs have never ached before. I am not an old man, I say unto myself. Why must my back forsake me in my years of sprite? I go to my computer and sit there, spending hours on different office websites like Office,, and Office I even look at Craigslist or eBay but nobody is offering me the perfect chair at a reasonable price. They all want too much and I cannot give it to them. I yearn for an Executive, a Managerial, or even a Secretarial seat. I am left with nothing but my yearning. I feel cold and alone.

The next dream I have takes place in a lovely Italian restaurant. I am eating hearty lasagna with uncountable layers. I am sitting across an ergonomically advanced Mirra Office Chair designed by Hermann Miller (retails at $629.00). We are totally flirting and drinking fine wine. Mirra--she says its okay if I just call her that--says that she has never, ever met anyone like me and knows that we're meant to be. She asks me to take her home. I am completely caught off guard. While we do share many of the same philosophical and political views, I'm afraid we're moving too fast. Mirra shushes me and says, "Everything is going to be okay." And then I imagine Mirra in my room in front of my desk with her graphite custom back support, her tilt tension and pneumatic height. I say to Mirra, "I am so in love with your Earth-friendly construction." She blushes and looks down. I then look at her label, which reads "One Size Fits Most," and I say, "But Mirra, let's say I am the size that won't fit?" She raises her left adjustable armrest and seductively touches my cheek. "I am also available in Terra Cotta," she coos and I am immediately smitten.
Then, again, I wake up. Disappointed.

I look at my current office chair and feel bad for it. I wonder if it knows that it only cost $52.99 and could never compete with the other office chairs out there. Getting up from my bed, I walk over to the budget-chair, or Budgie, and pat its semi-comforting back. It's okay, I say to Budgie, you're good enough. You'll have to do. But in my mind, I dream about Mirra and office chairs like her. And as uncomfortable as I may be with Budgie, I know in my dream, that once again, Mirra and I will soon reunite.


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4:26 AM  

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